Fall Out
by alli1
Summary: Yet another tag to Free Fall (1.7), one of my favorite episodes. Neal isn't feeling very forgiving of Peter after his stint in prison.


FALL OUT

Peter pushed open the door to his house, giving Satchmo a pat and sighing in relief. It had been a long, tiring day and he was happy to be home. He had spent most of the morning in the marshals' office, trying to ensure that the snafu with Neal's anklet would not happen again, and then the afternoon in meetings and doing paperwork, trying to clear up all the complications that had arisen since Fowler had swept in to the office—and Neal had swept out of the judge's chamber.

He heard El in the kitchen and went to help where he could with whatever he smelled cooking.

"Tough day, Hon?' Elizabeth said after she greeted him with a kiss.

"You have no idea how many forms you need to fill out when your CI is charged with a crime, escapes, and then helps catch the real thief. I've been tied up all day."

"Yeah, Neal said something about it at lunch today," El said as she set the table for their dinner.

"You had lunch with Neal?" Peter asked in surprise.

"Yes, didn't he mention it?"

Peter shook his head. "I had a meeting with the marshals this morning, so I didn't get to break for lunch 'til late. When I asked Neal to join me, he said he'd already eaten, but he didn't say it was with you."

"Well, when he called he said he wanted to take me to lunch to thank me for helping him make his case with you. He said he knew he would never have been able to approach you on his own."

Elizabeth's tone was light, but Peter felt a flash of guilt that Neal had needed El to run interference to be sure he'd be heard. He immediately clamped it down, reminding himself that the conman was only free due to his largesse and willingness to take a chance on him.

"Well, I still don't like him dragging you into his messes, but I guess everything turned out all right," he said grudgingly, ignoring his wife's frown.

El came around the table to look directly at Peter. "Peter, I'm glad he came to me. You said yourself that Fowler played the entire team, but Neal suffered the worst."

Peter snorted. "Suffered? A few days without Italian Roast coffee and silk sheets is hardly suffering. And besides, I apologized. What more should I have done? El, he was in prison for more than four years. Two weeks should have been a piece of cake."

Elizabeth just shook her head, clearly feeling that her sweet and gentle husband was hopelessly clueless. "Hon, he was guilty when he was there before. This time, he was innocent."

Peter snorted at the thought of anyone ever calling Neal 'innocent', but he did understand El's point. He was still feeling a bit guilty the next day when he came into the office. He had called Neal on his way in, offering to pick the younger man up, but Neal said he was already on his way. His tone had been pleasant, but Peter thought he could detect an undercurrent of...something.

The younger man was at his desk, his eyes glued to his computer screen when Peter arrived.

"You're here early today. Whatcha workin' on?" Peter asked casually, hoping to draw him into conversation.

"Just getting caught up on all the paperwork from the last few weeks. It really gets away from you if you're not here to do it," Neal replied, barely glancing up.

"Well, you don't have to do it all at once," Peter finally said, realizing Neal was not going to offer anything more.

"I wouldn't want to be accused of shirking my duties." Neal's tone was the same neutrally pleasant one from earlier but Peter noticed there was no sparkling smile to accompany it.

Peter detected the same tone when he invited Neal out for lunch later that day. Of course Neal was polite, but the end result was the same—Peter ate his hot dog from the cart alone.

The next few days continued in the same vein. Neal was agreeable, cooperative and remote. He contributed only when asked, and then with as few words as possible. Any attempt Peter made to draw him into conversation was met with the same detached tone and smile and Peter found he was growing heartily sick of it.

There was no anger in his voice, and he was as gracious and well mannered as always, but that essential 'Caffreyness' was missing. Peter found himself wishing that Neal would be angry, or snarky, or _something _that he could fight against, but what was he supposed to say? "You're too polite? You're being too accommodating?"

He tried everything he could think of to get Neal to open up to him, but any suggestion that there was any problem between them was met by bland assurances that everything was fine; that is when he could get Neal to hold still long enough to speak to him at all.

As he readied to leave for home after another frustrating day of trying to get on some kind of even footing with his CI, Jones tapped on his door frame.

"Boss, can I ask you something?"

Peter glanced up, hearing an unusual tone in his agent's question. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"Is there some reason you don't want me to associate with Caffrey?"

Peter gave him a puzzled look. "No, what would give you that idea?"

"Well, I felt kinda bad about everything that happened in the last couple weeks and I thought I'd see if Neal wanted to go out for a drink or something after work. He was polite and all, but he turned me down cold, and he said something that made me think you didn't want us hanging out together."

"He said that?"

Jones frowned, clearly trying to remember exactly what Neal had said to give him that impression. "Not those exact words, I guess, but that was the idea. I mean, I appreciate you looking out for me and all, but I'm not naive, even with charmers like Caffrey. I'm not going to let him do anything to derail my career."

Peter took a deep breath. "Jones, I'm not sure what's going on, but I can assure you I never said anything to Neal about not socializing with you. In fact, I've always thought that the two of you spending time together after work hours was a good thing. You're a good role model."

The younger agent smiled at the compliment. "Okay, I appreciate that. I just thought I'd check. Night, boss."

The conversation weighed on Peter's mind all the way home. He was still stewing over it as he sat on the patio with El after supper, sipping his beer.

"What's Neal done now?"

Peter roused himself from his musings, looking startled.

"Neal? Nothing, why?"

"You have your 'Neal's done something' face on. Trouble?"

"No, no, no he hasn't done anything at all." Peter's vigorous denial didn't match his worried face.

"And that's a problem because…?" El asked, clearly puzzled.

"It's not a problem; it's just…not Neal. I can't figure him out, El. He's helpful and polite at work, but distant, you know? He hasn't played any pranks, or asked any favors, or even tried to lift my wallet once in the last few days."

"So, maybe all your nagging and lectures have finally sunken in," Elizabeth pointed out reasonably.

"I don't nag! And I'd like to believe that he's finally learning something, but this just doesn't feel like that. And then Clinton came to me today and said Neal's avoiding him too, and he thought it was on my orders."

"Well, have you asked him what's going on?"

"I've tried," Peter admitted grudgingly. "He just smiles and tells me everything is fine."

Elizabeth patted his hand sympathetically. For all of her husband's grousing about Neal, she knew he deeply cared about the young conman and considered him a friend.

"Why don't you invite him to dinner? I haven't talked to him since our lunch last week. Maybe he'll open up to me."

Peter agreed readily, though it troubled him to think that El might have more of a rapport with Neal than he did at the moment.

As it turned out, lit didn't matter anyway, since like Jones, his overture was turned down cold. Of course, Neal smiled and made a charming excuse, but in the end, he refused Peter's invitation for dinner, in spite of the fact that Peter left it open-ended.

His worry increased ten-fold a day later when Lauren caught him at the coffee machine, angling herself so they had some privacy.

"Boss, I hate to ask, but did anything…happen to Neal while he was back in prison?" she asked in an unusually tentative voice.

Peter immediately understood the implications of the vague question. "Not that I know of," he admitted, feeling another stab of remorse that he hadn't paid more attention. "Why?"

Lauren looked troubled. "I went to retrieve a file from storage earlier this morning. Neal was already in the room, and I guess he didn't hear me approach with the dehumidifiers running. When I touched him on the arm, he jumped…and, I don't know, boss, the look he gave me was not a Neal Caffrey look at all. It was almost…feral. He covered pretty well once he saw it was me, but I don't know. I just can't get that look out of my head."

Peter did what he could to reassure the younger woman but he felt sick at the implication. He and Neal never talked about his time in prison and while he had a lawman's working knowledge of the penal system, that didn't mean he had any idea how tough it was to survive inside. For someone of Neal's more refined sensibilities it must have been akin to the seventh circle of Hell.

Deciding to corner the young conman, he waited until they were heading downstairs to interview a witness in their latest case. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Peter hit the emergency stop switch, jarring Neal slightly. At his bewildered look, Peter shrugged.

"A friend of mine in the DC office says a guy he knows in another agency uses the elevator in his building all the time when he needs a private conversation with one of his team."

"Can't be good for the electrical system," Neal snorted. "And there are a lot more comfortable places I can think to hold one."

"Maybe, but those places would also allow a quick escape and I have had enough of them lately," Peter responded sharply. Neal's eyes flicked away, the only sign that Peter's words had hit home. But, true to form, the younger man recovered quickly.

"Look Peter, I don't know what you want from me. I do my work, I've helped you solve cases, and I haven't complained once, not even about your deviled ham on the stake out the other night. If I'm somehow doing something wrong, let me know. Believe me; I have no desire to do anything that would get me sent back to prison. Again." This time, there was no mistaking the bitter edge to Neal's voice.

"That's what I want to talk about," Peter said softly. "I need to know if you were…ok this time in prison."

To Neal's credit, he didn't pretend to misunderstand Peter's question.

"Lauren said something to you, huh?" he asked resignedly.

"She's worried about you. We all are," Peter answered bluntly. Then he shook his head. "I should have checked…I should have made sure you were segregated."

Neal scoffed. "Like that would have helped if someone was really after me."

Peter felt sick at the response, but he had to ask. "Neal, if something happened…."

Neal cut him off before he could finish. "What, Peter? What could you do about it now?" he asked angrily, with a trace of the ferocity that Lauren had mentioned. Then he took a deep breath, clearly gathering himself.

"I'm sorry if I freaked Lauren out a little. You don't stay healthy long in prison by letting your guard down and I guess I was still a little jumpy."

"But you're sure you're all right?" Peter persisted, unwilling to let it go.

Neal sighed. "Look, Peter, it wasn't exactly the Mayberry jail with Aunt Bea's apple pie, but it wasn't 'Oz' either. Does that make you feel better?"

At Peter's raised eyebrow, Neal shrugged. "What? June has cable TV too, you know. I don't spend all my time in museums."

"I guess I just didn't think your endless catalogue of knowledge included pop culture," Peter said with a grin, relieved beyond measure that Neal seemed to be telling the truth. Unfortunately, his relief was short-lived. As soon as they were off the elevator, Neal reverted to his near silent behavior.

He wasn't sullen, or hostile, or petulant, or anything that Peter could be justified in calling him on. He just wasn't his usual dazzling self.

Any hope that his new behavior might go unnoticed by Hughes ended abruptly when Peter was summoned to the man's office after a briefing where Neal had provided some crucial information, but so succinctly and with such a distinct lack of zest that even his boss couldn't help but become aware of it.

Peter entered the office, shutting the door when Hughes indicated that he should.

"Something going on I should know about?" the older agent demanded without preamble once Peter was seated.

"Going on? In regards to what, sir?" Peter asked guardedly.

"Between you and Caffrey. Pardon the pun, but the two of you have always been as thick as thieves, and now I am sensing that something has changed. If it's going to be a problem, you need to let me know."

Peter sighed, debating for several moments how much to tell the senior agent. Hughes was his friend, and had been surprisingly supportive of his partnership with Neal, but his main focus would always be the integrity of the White Collar unit and he would allow nothing to jeopardize that.

"Neal hasn't done anything wrong. His work has been outstanding." Peter decided it couldn't hurt to go on the offensive.

Hughes held up his hand to forestall Peter's protest. "I am well aware of that. But I am also aware that what makes this partnership you have with Neal so successful is your unique relationship. If something has changed in that regard, we need to discuss it."

Peter rubbed his face wearily. Though it felt like a betrayal, maybe Hughes would be able to provide some insight.

"Neal hasn't been the same since he returned from prison after Fowler's little escapade," he admitted grudgingly. "He insists that he's forgiven me for falling for the frame job, but he refuses to have anything to do with me outside of work, and when we talk, I get the old conman Caffrey version. I just don't feel…connected to him anymore."

"Any reason to feel that he might be considering taking off?"

Peter couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind. A brooding and uncommunicative Neal was an unpredictable Neal.

"Nothing definitive," he finally said with a sigh. "And I know he wants to find Kate, and that would be a lot more difficult if he's on the run."

Hughes let that process for a moment and then spoke carefully; clearly weighing his words. "Peter, the last thing I want to do is cause more problems, but we can't afford to have Neal go off book right now. He pissed a lot of people off with his dive from the judge's chambers; not to mention the extra man hours that were spent searching for him. It took all my powers of persuasion to let him keep his deal."

"I appreciate that," Peter said sincerely. "What do you want me to do, Reese? I've tried talking to him, but I get stonewalled every time."

"Then you're just going to have to try harder or we may have to re-think continuing this arrangement," Hughes stated bluntly.

Peter was horrified by the implication. "We just got him out of jail for something he didn't do. You can't possibly expect me to put him back in for something he might do!"

Hughes held up his hands to calm him. "I never said anything about jail. But maybe it wouldn't hurt to tighten the leash a little. Just until the two of you work through whatever is eating him."

Peter's shoulders slumped. While he understood Hughes' concerns, Neal would see any tightening of his restrictions as just more unfair punishment. After all, what could Peter offer as a rationale?

'You're not my friend anymore?'

'In spite of what you said outside the boutique, you don't like me anymore?'

That seemed a little too much like junior high school.

"You've got to give me some time to work this through before we do anything drastic. He deserves that much," he said finally, prepared to argue if necessary.

"Yes, he does," Hughes agreed readily, surprising Peter with his support of the conman. "But I don't think I need to tell you how bad it would be for the white collar division; and you in particular; if Neal decides to cut and run."

Peter nodded, all too aware that it would most likely cost him his job if Neal did decide to bolt. But how could he talk to Neal when the younger man avoided him at every turn? He left Hughes' office a few moments later, wondering how to could pin Neal down long enough to talk to him.

Deciding the conversation would need to take place out of the office, Peter told El not to wait up and then went to visit Neal at June's. She opened the door herself, greeting him pleasantly but with a reserved edge she couldn't be bothered to hide. Apparently, she also felt some residual bitterness for her favorite tenant being hauled off to jail.

He climbed the stairs feeling uncharacteristically nervous, carrying a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine as a peace offering.

Neal answered immediately, not looking especially pleased to see him—but he wasn't openly hostile either, so Peter pressed on.

"Hey, Neal. May I come in?"

"I'm sure my release paperwork allows my handler to enter my home at any time, so you know you don't even have to ask that question."

The words were said amiably enough, but Peter heard the same undercurrent of tension he'd been hearing from the younger man. And it hurt a little to be referred to as 'my handler'.

Neal turned away from the door, allowing Peter to follow. "Has something come up on the Langston case?"

"No, no case. I was just hoping we could talk." Peter said; extending the bottle of wine he'd brought. The cashier at the liquor store had assured him it was a more than decent variety. He should have spared himself the fifty bucks, because Neal barely even glanced at it.

"Thank you, but I know you don't drink during work hours, and I'm really not in the mood for a social call."

Neal's attitude made it clear that Peter's visit was not welcome, but with Hughes' warning ringing in his ears, Peter was getting desperate.

He set the wine down on the table and turned to face the younger man.

"Neal, this isn't exactly a social call. I'm here because Hughes asked me to talk to you. He's worried that … well, he's concerned that…"

"…that I'm gonna run if the two of us aren't getting along?" Neal finished for him.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, that just about sums it up."

"And what's he threatening? Prison? Again?"

Peter vehemently shook his head. "No, I wouldn't let him do that."

Neal didn't seem reassured. "But….?" he pressed.

"But he might want tighter restrictions," Peter admitted reluctantly. "Just for a little while. Just until we're on an even keel again."

Neal sighed. "So, what will it take to fool him? Do I need to smile a little bigger? Laugh at your jokes a little more? I can do that."

Peter's heart clenched a little at Neal's cynical assessment of the situation.

"Neal, I don't want to fool him. I want us to be friends again. For real."

"Friends?" Neal repeated with a derisive snort. "Peter, I hate to break it to you, but 'friends' don't keep you on an electronic monitoring device. Friends don't threaten you with an orange jumpsuit on a daily basis. Face it; no matter how much we might enjoy working together, we're not really even partners. We're conman and handler. I just made the mistake of letting myself forget that for a while."

Peter's mouth hung open after Neal's speech. "But you said you liked me again," he said, realizing dimly how ridiculous he sounded.

"I do like you. But the last few weeks were a reality check that reminded me that it's not in my best interest to get too close. I'll work as hard as I can for you and for White Collar, and I'll keep up my end of the deal, but I can't afford to be friends with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to my evening," Neal said, handing Peter his wine bottle and turning and heading for the door, clearly indicating their discussion was over. "But don't worry. I appreciate the heads up. I'm not going to risk what few freedoms I have, so Hughes will see a new and improved Neal Caffrey tomorrow. Good night, Peter."

Peter just nodded numbly and left, feeling worse than he had before he came.

True to his word, Neal was different the next day. Not a total transformation, because he was too much the consummate con man to raise suspicions like that; but a subtle but discernible lightening of his mood. Even Peter might have been fooled if it hadn't been for Neal's speech the night before.

By the end of the week, it seemed to almost everyone that the old Neal was back. Lauren and Jones both looked relieved, and Hughes even gave Peter an inconspicuous thumbs-up after a meeting where Neal had dazzled and charmed as usual.

Everyone was all smiles again, and Peter was dying a little inside.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCW

Elizabeth Burke was good at many things, but keeping quiet while her husband was hurting was not one of them.

She watched as Peter tried to pretend, even with her, that everything was all right again between him and Neal. He put up a good front, told her that Neal was coming around, and that it would just take some time, but she could see how much the conman's continued distance was hurting him.

It left her feeling helpless and powerless and angry: with Neal, with the system, but mostly with Fowler, who had brought this whole mess upon them.

Deciding that the best way to make her case was to speak to Neal directly, she waited until Peter had an evening meeting and then headed to Neal's apartment, hoping he was home and that he was alone.

Both her prayers were answered when Neal answered the door. He seemed shocked to see her.

"Elizabeth! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"No, Neal, it's not. Can I come in?"

"Certainly, sorry," Neal said, quickly moving aside and helping Elizabeth off with her coat. "Is Peter okay?"

Elizabeth noted the slightly panicked tone and it reassured her that Neal still cared for her husband. "He's fine, but that's what I want to talk to you about."

Neal's smile faltered a bit, no doubt guessing the reason for the visit.

"Of course," he said, sounding a bit resigned. "Can I get you some wine first?" he asked.

"Please."

Neal busied himself with the wine while Elizabeth stepped over to the windows to admire the stunning view.

"What's on your mind?" Neal asked as he returned with the wine.

Elizabeth turned from the windows and accepted the glass Neal was offering and then looked him straight in the eye. "I need to know how long you're going to continue to hurt my husband by keeping him at arm's length," she said bluntly.

Neal blinked, clearly caught off guard by her frank question. He took a quick sip of his own wine before he spoke.

"Elizabeth, I'm truly not trying to hurt Peter. I'm trying to protect myself."

Elizabeth gave him a puzzled look. "I don't understand."

Neal shook his head. "No, you don't, and I don't expect you to. But trust me; I'm doing what I have to do to survive. Working with Peter has been great, but I got too close and I got burned. It's nothing personal. I just can't afford to be that vulnerable again."

"Nothing personal?" El parroted back. "Neal, everything between you and Peter is personal. He's put himself and his job on the line for you so many times. Doesn't that count for something?"

"Of course it does! Elizabeth, I appreciate everything Peter has done for me, I really do. But being sent back to prison reminded me that it's better for everyone if I remember that Peter will always be a handler first and a friend second."

"But what makes you and Peter so great together is your friendship," Elizabeth pointed out. "Look, Neal, I can't pretend to know what going back to prison was like for you, and neither can Peter. But I do know he feels terrible about what happened, and for not giving you the benefit of the doubt, at least until I forced the issue. But you've got a good thing here working with him and I hate to see you throw that away."

"I'm not throwing it away. Peter and I still work well together. I'm just trying to keep the boundaries a little tighter."

Neal's answers were so calm, so reasonable and so heartbreaking that Elizabeth had a new appreciation for what Peter had been up against the last few weeks. She sipped at her wine, trying frantically to think what more she could say to help mend Peter and Neal's broken relationship. Finally she set her glass down and took Neal's hand in hers.

"Neal, you asked me to do you a favor when you escaped from the judge and now I'm asking you to do one for me. I want you to come have dinner with us tomorrow and try to explain some of what you're feeling to Peter. I know you think he's not good with emotional stuff, but I want you to at least try to make him understand. Will you do that for me?"

"I don't think it will do any good," Neal hedged; clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

"Peter was reluctant too, but he listened to you when you came to him last time, didn't he? Give him a chance to do it again."

Neal finally gave a hesitant nod. "All right, I'll be there."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

True to his word, Neal arrived on time and with a bottle of wine and flowers for his hostess. Elizabeth kissed his cheek and used the moment to whisper a quick thank you to him for keeping his promise.

All three of them tried at dinner but it was still a stilted affair, filled with awkward pauses that were then filled with even more awkward laughter. Peter was over-solicitous, Neal was polite but guarded, and Elizabeth looked ready to knock their heads together.

Once the meal was finished, she shoved the two of them out on the patio with a meaningful glance at each of them while she cleared the table and prepared dessert; refusing any offers to help.

Once outside, both men settled at the patio table, watching Satchmo chase the squirrels and birds that ventured into his territory. Peter played with the label on his beer and Neal sipped his wine, but neither seemed inclined to speak.

Taking a deep breath, Peter finally broke the silence. "I'm not sure my wife is going to let us back in the house until we fix this."

"She can be very determined," Neal acknowledged wryly.

"Yeah, she can," Peter agreed. "So, _can_ we fix this?"

Neal sighed. "Peter, I've told both of you, there's nothing to fix. I said I'm not mad at you, and I meant that. With the evidence they put in front of you, I would have suspected me too."

"You say you're not mad, but you never want to talk to me anymore. I've tried apologizing a dozen different ways, and you always shut me down. Neal, this whole anklet thing was supposed to be something good for both of us. If it's not working for you… well, I don't know if this is even possible, but I can make a few calls and see if there might be another white collar agent that would be willing to take you on…maybe not in New York, but if you're willing to transfer…"

Neal sat up straight; clearly shocked by the suggestion. "Peter, that's not what I want!"

"Then tell me what you _do_ want, because right now I have no idea!" Peter shot back in irritation.

"Why can't things just stay the way they are?" Neal demanded, sounding frustrated. "Hughes is satisfied. We make a good team, and our closure rate is improving all the time. Why can't that be enough?"

Peter's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Maybe it should be enough, but it isn't. Not for me. I don't want us just to be partners. I want us to go back to being friends. For real—not just to fool Hughes," he said sadly.

"Peter, like I told Elizabeth, us being friends was the problem. I just don't want to run the risk of getting too close again. I got complacent, and a CI can't run that risk—ever."

"But why? I thought us being friends was a good thing. I don't understand."

The younger man jumped to his feet and began to pace around the small patio. When he finally spoke again, his voice was so low that Peter had to lean toward him to hear him.

"I know you're never really going to trust me, no matter how long we work together. But I thought _I _could trust _you_."

"Trust me?" Peter was confused. "What do you mean you can't trust me?"

"After chasing me for all those years, I trusted that you would understand me well enough to know that I would never pull something that stupid and blatant just for kicks. I might not always make the best choices, but I try never to hurt the people I care about. I thought you knew that."

Neal's voice was filled with despair, and Peter felt another stab of shame at how quickly he had assumed Neal was guilty.

"When I came into the office that day last month, I had no idea that you seriously considered me a suspect," Neal continued. "Hearing Fowler tell me I was under arrest was bad enough, but the look you gave me when you slapped the handcuffs on me was one of the worst things I had ever experienced because I wasn't ready for it, and a conman always has to be ready for anything."

Neal dropped back into his chair and stared down at the table.

"You don't…can't…know what it's like," he continued. "When I first went to prison, I was terrified, but at least knew that I deserved it. I tried to prepare myself, even though I learned pretty quickly that nothing can really prepare you for it. And even after you caught me the second time, after I escaped to find Kate, I told myself going after her was worth the price I paid.

But this time was the worst. Not only was I in prison for a crime I didn't commit, but the one person I thought believed in me didn't. You told me I let you down."

Peter was surprised and deeply touched by the raw pain in the younger man's voice. Neal was always so confident, almost to the point of cockiness. It never occurred to Peter how scary the realities of prison must have been to his CI, or how deeply Peter's lack of belief in him must have hurt. He remembered his snapped remark to Neal, and Neal's bitter response.

Without stopping to think about it, he moved closer to Neal and wrapped one hand tightly around his wrist and put the other around his shoulder, pulling him close. The younger man startled at the touch but didn't pull away.

"Neal, listen to me," Peter said, his voice fervent. "I can't promise that I will never be suspicious of you again. I'm an FBI agent and you're a conman, and that means I'm always going to look a little more closely at anything that you're doing. But I _will _make you another promise: I will try never again to jump to conclusions without giving you a chance to explain yourself. And _without_ having to go through El first."

Peter watched closely as Neal processed his words and for the first time in weeks, he saw some of the tenseness leave his CI's body.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Peter," Neal finally said, but Peter noted that he sounded more weary than angry.

"I am going to keep it," Peter insisted. "I never thought I'd say this, but I've missed you. I don't ever want either of us to go through what we have these last few weeks."

Neal looked surprised at the admission. "Well, don't let it get back to Mozzie or he'll swear I've been brainwashed, but I've missed you too," he said softly. "So you really think you can begin to trust me?" he asked with a skeptical quirk of his eyebrow.

"Well, I did say I'd _try_," Peter teased gently, reaching up to ruffle Neal's hair. As he expected Neal scowled and pulled away, but he was smiling, and Peter felt something in him lighten.

El must have been watching from the kitchen window, because a moment later she came outside bearing a tray with a pie and plates and an ear to ear smile.

"Anyone ready for dessert?"

Neal jumped to help her, grinning and pushing Satchmo away as he suddenly became more interested in the prospect of crumbs from the table than the squirrels that were around.

Peter watched them both, feeling immeasurably better. He knew it would take more than one simple conversation to fix the damage that had been done between them.

But at least it was a start.


End file.
